Mexico`s Amazing Mayas

In The Footsteps Of A 19th Century Yucatan Explorer

October 22, 1989|By Text and photos by John Kimmich, Special to The Tribune.

MERIDA, MEXICO — The rain stopped. Drenched and covered with mud, we slipped and stumbled our way through the thick forest. Ubaldo Tzec, our Maya guide, tirelessly continued hacking down saplings and shrubs with his machete. Ahead, scarcely discernible through the thick foliage, was our goal.

As Ubaldo and the other Maya helpers cleared the surrounding vegetation, sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the ruined buildings of the ancient Maya city of Chunhuhu.

Accounts by 19th Century American explorer John L. Stephens had been the inspiration for this journey into the tropical forest of the Yucatan peninsula.

On Oct. 3, 1839, Stephens (accompanied by British artist Frederick Catherwood) set out on an expedition to Mexico and Central America. That journey and a subsequent one in 1841 would bring to light magnificent descriptions of long-lost Maya cities. Stephens` books ``Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas and Yucatan`` (1841), and ``Incidents of Travel in Yucatan`` (1843), fired the imagination of a generation of 19th Century explorers.

In print 150 years after the start of the original journey, these accounts continue to excite contemporary readers. Present-day travelers to Yucatan can still experience the Yucatan without suffering the hardships of the original explorers.

Merida, as seen by Stephens and Catherwood, was the elegant capital of an empire of henequen plantations. In the days of tall sailing ships, henequen, used to make rope, brought great wealth to this city. The citizens wore the latest French fashions and their children were sent to Paris to study.

Today, Merida maintains a colonial charm in spite of 20th Century intrusions. Horse-drawn carriages carrying tourists share the streets with old pickups. Businessmen wear loose-fitting guayaberas (shirts). Round Maya women, dressed in white embroidered huipils (dresses) with scarves draped across their shoulders, walk on the shady side of the street. Tourists walking on the sunny side struggle with vendors trying to sell them hammocks.

The ceiling fans in Merida`s Cafe Express futilely turned the warm evening air. The waiter brought my third beer while I waited for my pollo pibil (chicken), and sopa de lima (lime soup). Outside, the streets were crowded with Yucatecans in their evening paseo, stroll.

A bus roared, lurching forward, spewing clouds of exhaust. The dim, yellow light inside illuminated the Maya faces of tired commuters returning home. Cafe Express was now full. Students and professors from the University of Yucatan greeted one another. Businessmen discussed the day`s events. Travelers gathered around several tables and compared impressions of the various archeological sites. I continued waiting for my dinner.

The next day, I stopped in a gas station in Izamal to get directions to the ruins of Chichen Itza, 30 miles away. The chatty attendant began to tell me of the pyramid of Kinich Kakmo in the center of town. It is a massive structure visible from miles away, and its summit affords a view of Chichen Itza in the distance.

I reminded the attendant of my need to get to Chichen Itza. ``Oh, that is easy,`` he said. ``Just turn right and go all the way down that road.`` After I pointed out that it was one way in the wrong direction, he added, ``Don`t worry, all the police are eating right now.``

Chichen Itza is perhaps one of the most impressive of all Pre-Columbian sites. Stephens wrote of his arrival:

``Very soon we saw rising high above the plain the Castillo of Chichen. In half an hour we were among the ruins of this ancient city, with all the great buildings in full view, casting a prodigious shadow over the plain, and presenting a spectacle which after all that we have seen, once more excited in us emotions and wonder.``

Even after numerous visits, Chichen Itza still takes one`s breath away. The place is magic. In the enchantment of a beautiful morning the original inhabitants can come to life and walk the forest.

A hawk screeched. Night receded into the shadows of the jungle. The emerging light of the new day turned the ruins into a golden city, an El Dorado. The perfumes of tropical flowers mixed with the earthen smell of the reddish soil. My shoes were damp from the morning dew.

Overhead, swallows glided, dived and swooped, feeding on countless flying insects. A gentle breeze carried their noises throughout the area. A bright blue bird with an orange chest joined another in flight. Their long black tail feathers painted streaks of color against the sky. A vulture hovered lazily high above. In the soft light this living composition of noise, color and smell was reminiscent of a Henri Rousseau painting.